Newsletter 2016

Holiday Greetings from the Gentiles!

Well, 2016 has been nothing if not eventful. A hinge broke on a kitchen cabinet (stay with me here). This was the third time this particular hinge had broken and it was a corner cabinet and a pain to replace. So, if I had to replace the hinge I might as well replace the stupid door. And I can‘t replace just one door and have a mis­match, so I have to replace them all, so why not get that pull-out pantry I’ve been eyeing forever? And since I’m replacing the cabinets, I might as well move the fridge to where I’ve always wanted it and replace it with the French door model I’ve always wanted, right? But the new stainless fridge would certain make the ivory dish­washer look shabby, so that’s gotta go, too. And with the new appliances and new cabinets, of course I need a new counter, which gives me an excuse to put in a peninsula where the table’s always been. And you know what would really pop? A backsplash that plays off the blue flecks in the countertop. Don’t mess with me, hinges. When I go, I go all in.

Probably my favorite part of the whole project (which also included a new floor. There should be a law against using grout on a kitchen floor) – when they pulled off all the backsplash they found the walls were not sheet­rocked, but were plywooded. “We’ve never seen anyone do this before,” the project manager said. “You never met my husband,” I laughed in response, but secretly confident that a cabinet would never rip away from the wall from being overloaded. Oh, Tom -- always taking things to the next level just because he could. The counter installers called me “Deb” for good reason: Scrawled in pencil on the plywood, and not in Tom’s handwriting, the message, “I’m sorry Deb. Will you still marry me?” As far as I know, Tom only knew one Deb, and she did marry the scribe who was apparently visiting from overseas during the last kitchen renovation. I’d love to know what that fight was about.

In September I spent 6 days in Iceland. I wanted a place where they drive on the right, somewhere I could get to nonstop, and where language would not be a barrier, so Iceland seemed a logical choice. It was the coolest vacation I’ve ever had, in the most beautiful part of the planet I’ve ever visited, and on the flight back I was already plotting my return. Loved it. Loved everything about it.

David had an eventful year too. He and Hannah are still doing well.  Now a junior, he changed his concentration (they don’t do majors at SLC) from theatre production to computer science and advanced math­ematics. That’s almost the same, right? He’s also starting to think about grad school, or what else might come next.

I mentioned last year that Geof would be joining the Army in 2016. He did, indeed, leave for basic training and armor AIT in August. The Army was not a good match for Geof, and the Army agreed to release him from his obligations in Nov­ember. He’s back home now and planning to start school in January in an aviation mechanics program. So while his career plan no longer includes the Army, that experience got him on the path he’s on now, and he hasn’t ruled out returning to service after graduation. So I see a good year coming up for him, too.

We wish you all the best for 2017, but now that weed is legal in Massachusetts … let’s be honest, we’ll talk again in 2018.

                                                                             Linda

http://twoboysfourcatsnodogsyet.blogspot.com                             linda.gentile@ymail.com

Iceland, Part One

Iceland: Beautiful. Friendly. Rainy.

This sign greets visitors arriving at Keflavik International Airport,
about an hour outside Reykjavik. Words both wise and welcoming. 

Comprised of literally thousands of delicate layers, this formation reminded me of a fragile, sweet mille feuille.

From a little farther out, you see the basalt columns that formed naturally as the lava floes  spread and cooled and cracked  into their crystals.

 The photos above give a clearer view of the formation for sure, but I had to include this next view from a distance, for sheer scale. That tiny red dot at the cave entrance (center) is a person ...

Black Sands Beach was about a 2.5 hour drive from Reykjavik, outside Vik, on Iceland's south shore. I had decided early on that I'd stop at any information point/travellers' center/lookout that struck my fancy so the 2.5 hour drive ended up taking nearly 7, and I barely got there before sunset. I was particularly glad I was alone that day. If 96 and 98 had been with me, they surely would have smothered me in my sleep that night.

I drove past this memorial on one of the main highways several times before I finally stopped one day, expecting to maybe say a little prayer and be on my way. Sometimes I say a little prayer for people figuring even if I don't know their names, someone does. I was particularly touched by one of the markers: If you look closely you can see that one of the crosses has another, smaller, cross attached. I figured it was for a mother and child. I asked an Icelander learned the story. Roughly translated, 'These crosses are in memory of those who have died on [the road named] Sudurlandsvegur, between Reykjavik and Selfoss.' The memorial was erected in 2006 both as a way to remember the loss of life on the curvy road and to highlight for all the importance of maintaining the country's transportation infrastructure. I was very glad I stopped there and found this sweet, simple memorial.

This will probably come up in the Christmas Newsletter, but ...

... I just got back from Iceland. More to come. But here's a funny story.

I was at a souvenir place looking for a magnet for my fridge. (Also coming soon: new kitchen pictures, including black stainless appliances that hold magnets! Yay for black stainless!)

I digress. So, I'm at the souvenir place and find a couple of magnets I like. I particularly like the first one, because Mark Twain is supposed to have said this about New England first, I think, and it's kind of a mantra around here. It was also crazy true about the few days I was in Iceland.

I also liked one printed in Icelandic but I didn't know what it said. I didn't want to buy it if it said something raunchy so I brought it to the cashier and asked her to translate. She responded, "I don't speak Icelandic." So I replied, "That's okay. I'll find another person to ask," and took back the magnet.

"No, no, no!" she laughed, and said again, "'I don't speak Icelandic.' That's what it says!" 

It was a classic Laurel and Hardy and I fear I embarrassed all Americans with my ignorance because ég tala ekki íslensku.